True Places Are Never Down on Any Map
by Maripics
Summary: She didn't think those pictures would end up online. She didn't think she'd be curled up in Don's office, trying to keep herself from crying. But they did, and she did. And that afternoon changed a whole lot more than just her reputation.


_**It's Not Down On Any Map. True Places Never Are. **_

**Author's Note: Hi, folks! I'm not sure how many of you know me – probably just the ones brought here by my author follow – but I'm Mariana. I've written a handful of Castle fanfics, but this is my first for The Newsroom. I'm absolutely addicted. The pairing will be Don/Sloan and I really want your feedback on this, because I'm not even sure you guys want to read something like this story, so please let me know. I'm a sucker for reviews. Enjoy! **

Chapter One: To a Sensitive Being, Pity is Not Seldom Pain

She just sat there. In the dark, in the cold, on the floor. She just sat there, her knees brought to her chest and her head resting on the bookcase behind her. Why, she didn't know, she just knew it felt safe. No one could get her there.

It was secluded, and comfortable, and the office smelled like Don. She loved his smell. Probably because – even though it was both precocious and preposterous – she was in love with him. Every single inch of his body, and everything he did.

She didn't move or say anything when he walked into the room. Because as much as she loved talking to him, she didn't feel like talking at all. So she just sat there, quiet. She didn't make a noise when she heard him make a phone call. But when he hung up, feeling a mix of strength and utter weakness, she couldn't fight the urge to say something.

"What's wrong?" She asked, her voice low and unsteady.

"Jesus Christ!" he yelled, jumping back.

"Sorry. I'm down here."

"Sloan, what are you doing here?"

"Just hanging out. Grant's in my office. Our office."

"You shouldn't be sharing an office anymore."

"I don't mind. I like Grant. He's mostly in Washington anyway. Sometimes he brings his dog in. It's a basset hound. It always looks very puzzled. Just confounded." She blurted out, without any pauses and any real connection between the sentences.

"What's going on?" He asked, sitting next to her on the floor. He'd never seen her look so fragile. He had no idea what was going on, but given the way it was affecting Sloan, he could put two and two together and understand that it was serious. Very serious.

"I'm a fucking moron, that's what happened."

"Yeah, I'm sure your college degree, your PhD in economics from Berkeley and your doctorate from Duke can attest to that." He said "Tell me what happened."

"I was going out with this guy, Scott. We'd been going out for about six weeks. I bought him a camera, a nice camera, for Christmas. He'd gotten us this suite in a fancy hotel. We had a couple of drinks, and he asked me if I'd pose for him. It didn't seem like a stupid idea at the time, so I did. For fun. Just for us. I broke up with him last night." She told him, speaking in an unbelievable speed. He didn't even know how he'd managed to understand what she was saying.

"Shit."

"Reese said he posted the pictures on a website called Revenge Porn." She said, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Revenge porn is a style, not a specific website."

"Great" she sighed "so the pictures are really everywhere."

"I'm sorry." Don said, reaching for her hand.

She took it and squeezed, as if thanking him for being there for her. "Why do you keep dating these idiots?"

"You don't really know they're idiots until something like this happens." She said "It's not like they say 'Hey, my name's Scott fucking douchebag Fink, and I'm gonna do something really awful to you in a little while. Wanna hang out?"

"You know that's not true. You can identify idiots."

"Maybe idiots are the only ones who want to date me."

"No. the idiots are the ones who don't."

"Was that a self-deprecating affirmation?"

"You really are socially inept." He said, scooting over to get closer to her.

"What are you doing?" she asked, shrugging slightly.

"Could you just stay quiet?" he asked, getting even closer "I'm tired of my own idiocy." He said, breathing into her neck.

It was one fast movement, and he was kissing her. Ferociously, angrily, lovingly. She could tell he was fighting an internal battle.

"I can tell." Sloan breathed, keeping her face as close to his as she could.

"Tell what?"

"I can tell you're not an idiot."

X-X-X-X-X-X

"You were great." Don said, walking inside the studio "I might buy some stock when I get home."

"I'd advise you to buy either Apple or Chevron, because they'll…"

"I was just making small talk." He told her, walking towards the large wooden desk.

She looked absolutely stunning. Her hair had a few soft curls – a hairstyle she rarely donned – and the emerald green dress she wore hugged her body in a way she could bring peace to the Middle East. Her makeup was light and discreet, a look he always did prefer.

"Why do you need to make small talk?" she asked, taking off her ear plug and getting up from the chair.

"It's just something people do."

"What people?"

"Regular people?"

"I don't know a whole lot about those." She told him, walking over to his side.

"Shocker." He mocked "I was wondering if you wanted to grab a bite."

"Hang Chew's?" she asked, walking to the door and pulling the handle, holding the door open for him.

"I was thinking somewhere more private." He said, walking through the door "There's this great new place called Diavolo's. I heard the food is great."

"Oh." She exclaimed "Like a date?"

"No, not like a date." He said, and her smile faded. "A date."

"Wait for me to change?" she asked, walking to her (and Grant's) office.

"Sure thing."

He didn't really know what the hell he was doing. He had absolutely no idea what he was getting into. But he sure as hell was enjoying it.

X-X-X-X-X-X

Diavolo's was packed. The restaurant would sit sixty people, and there were at least one hundred standing outside the door. There were twenty-eight tables ahead of theirs, the maître had told them, and the wait was supposed to take another hour and a half.

"Shit. Is there any way you can bump us to the front?"

"I'm sorry, sir." The older man said "there's a line."

"Don, it's okay." Placing a hand on his shoulder.

"No, it's not. It's cold out here." He whined "this is our first date, and I want it to be perfect."

"It will be. We'll stay out here and talk for a little bit. Won't be so bad." She tried.

"Can you do your best to make sure we get in as soon as possible?"

"Yes, sir."

They waited an hour and a half. Finally, the maître called Don's name and they got in, settling themselves on a table for two next to a big window.

"It's nice." Sloan commented, as she slid off her coat.

"I hope the food tastes good, too." He said "I'm starving."

"Me too." She said "do you think they have lasagna here?"

"Here? In an Italian restaurant?" he asked "Yeah, pretty sure they do."

"I want it, then." She said.

"So, how was your day?"

"Seriously?" she asked "Well, I got publicly humiliated, my parents are probably ashamed to have me as a daughter, my colleagues will lose all respect for me…" she said "and if I ever have kids, they'll get to see mommy naked! Just superb."

"Bad question." He said "You were awesome on the show, though."  
"I always am." She said.

"Nude pictures haven't affected your self-esteem, though."

"Well… they were pretty great nudes." She joked, light-heartedly.

"They were."

"You saw them!?"

"Not on purpose!" he said, lifting both his hands in surrender "I swear. I opened an email, and there you were." He said "in your birthsuit. Naked. Wearing nada."

"I get the picture, thanks."

"Shall we order?"

X-X-X-X-X-X

It was almost ten when they left Diavolo's, heading God knows where. Their arms were linked as they walked through the semi-deserted streets, and neither of them could remember an occasion in which they had more fun.

They'd talked about everything. From their families to dream trips, through favorite food and movies. They were getting to know each other better, and it was just perfect.

"Favorite book." Don said, as Sloan rested her head on his shoulder.

The heels she wore made her almost tall as him, which was oddly comfortable during a walk.

"Moby Dick." She answered, leading him through the streets.

"Really?" he asked "Why?"

"My grandfather." She said "It was his favorite. He read it at least once every other month. Some times more. He had this really old and threadbare copy, and it was the one he always read." She told him "at least six times a year, for twenty years. He died when I was thirteen." She continued, tears forming in the corner of her eyes "I took it pretty hard. I was helping my dad pack some of his things when I saw the book. It reminded me so much of him." Her face was an odd mix of happy memories and unspoken grief, and Don had to fight the urge to scoop her up and take her home "So I asked my dad if I could have it, and he said yes. I read the entire book on that same night. When I finished it, I noticed there was something written in the back cover.

_To my little Sloan, whatever you might be right now _

_Sweetheart, I remember the first time I held you in my arms. My first grandchild. _

_You were sheer perfection, and I stared at you for hours. I didn't want to let go. _

_As you grew up, it became clearer to me that you were __**special. **_

_It had nothing to do with the fact that you were one of the smartest people I'd ever met at age ten. _

_It's about your heart. _

_You'll do great things, Sloan, and not just because you're smart. _

_Or because you're beautiful. _

_You're gonna do great things because your heart is pure and strong. _

_Don't let anyone rob you that, baby girl. _

_Keep this book in your home and me in your heart, and we'll be your guides. _

_Because you're too good for this world. _

_Love you forever, Papa. _

She recited, without stumbling on any words. She'd read them over a million times, and she knew it by heart since the first day she read it. She'd never told anyone that. Not her parents, not her sister, or her brother. Not any of her friends – not that she had many.

"There are certain queer times and occasions in this strange mixed affair we call life, when a man takes this whole universe for a vast practical joke." Don began, unlinking their arms and wrapping an arm around her shoulders "though the wit thereof he but dimly discerns, and more than suspects, that the joke is at nobody's expense but his own." He finished. "Moby Dick's my favorite, too."

**Did you like it? Please leave a review! **


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